Shadows from the past
by Pikatchoune
Summary: Post season 6, beware of spoilers! The FBI caught the Pink Panthers even so not everything went as planned. Neal did not survive the take down. Two years later, a thief starts targeting great European museums. What if Neal was not really dead? Mostly canon, but started before the Finale aired, so some parts are AU. Rated T for safety.
1. Prolog

**Author's note:** This story was first written in French. Since readers seem to enjoy it, I decided to give it a chance in English. Sadly, English is not my first language. I tried to find a beta, but no one seemed available. If you feel like correcting the spelling and grammar, feel free to contact me. The story is over in its original French version, even if it's not published yet. Therefore, I won't change the plot, even if my future beta has fantastic ideas.

**Prolog**

She could hear Theo babbling in French in his room while she was getting ready for work. The sound made her smile. Mozzie would be proud of the linguistic talents of his putative son. She had made the right choice. But did she really have a choice? After the fiasco of the Pink Panthers take down, she could not stand her life in New York anymore.

Each street corner, each second of her life reminded her of Neal's face. She didn't get a chance to see him after the bullet hit him. Only Peter could talk to him. If they had reacted faster, if they had truly trusted him, he might still be alive. Neal had not believed in the FBI, he had chosen to trust Keller instead, since the Bureau had let him down so often before. And Keller had shot him. In a way, Neal was now truly free.

So Diana had left. She had thought about her international youth, and had decided that growing up around the world would be good for Theo, too. She left her job at the FBI hoping she would leave her sense of guilt behind. It nearly worked. Europe and her work with Interpol did allow her to cut the ties with her past and to forget those dreadful events. Sometimes, she would get a phone call from Peter and Elisabeth, but these conversations only hurt. Their little Neal should have a godfather to watch over him, to teach him everything his father did not want him to know. Instead, he only had a first and a middle name, Neal Georges, a tribute to a friend gone too early.

The distance had lessened her sadness, until this new case. Someone was robbing museums throughout Europe. High profile, smart break-ins, and with no one ever getting hurt. In fact, no one had seen the mysterious thief. No fingerprints, no DNA, not a single picture from CCTV. Nothing. Of course, Diana could not help but think about Neal. After Copenhagen, Amsterdam and Zurich, the criminal had come to Paris. It was Agent Berringan's turn to start chasing him. The French police had a suspect in custody. It was time to start asking questions.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** Here comes the first real chapter. I still don't have a beta, all mistakes are mine. The French characters are from a TV show called Julie Lescaut. I don't own them any more than the ones from White Collar.

**Chapter one**

"The suspect's name is Victor Moreau. His papers seem legit. We checked his fingerprints, but without results. Interpol has sent someone to question him."

Detective Vincent Motta summed up the situation in one sentence to his superior, Captain Julie Lescaut. The redhead lady was furious. The international agency would certainly claim her team's success. Having a suspect in custody in a case that embarrassed everyone was a major step in solving the mystery, even if they did not have any proof yet.

"What evidence do we have against him?" she asked.

"Not much. Moreau spent time in every city the thief targeted over the last few months. Each time, he flew out on the days that followed the heist. We found him while checking the aviation companies' database."

"A crime genius who would use the same name each time he travels, it's unlikely."

"It might be his only mistake. But we don't have any direct evidence. We need a confession. He is waiting in an interrogation room if you'd like to see him before anyone from Interpol gets here."

Julie Lescaut did not wait. She entered the room and dropped a file on the table, in front of her suspect. The man did not even flinch. The transparent blue eyes did not show any emotion. The half-smile did not fade in the slightest. Victor Moreau was a rock, at least on the outside.

Inside his head, thoughts were flying all over the place. Why had he been arrested? Since he had left New York, he had been a law-abiding citizen. The money taken right under the Pink Panthers and the FBI's nose allowed him to live without worrying about his finances. Of course, he had not been able to take all of the money, he had to do with only a few millions. He didn't know how the FBI had explained the missing money and he didn't care. Neal Caffrey had died that day and he was a totally different man. A man who had nothing to be ashamed of.

The two detectives who had arrested him at his place had taken his fingerprints, but Neal was not worried. The police only used databases with living people in them. His prints were not there anymore. His file was buried deep in the archives, just like himself, in a way. He had nothing to fear. Same for his DNA. No one would compare it to the one of a deceased criminal.

"You seem to enjoy travelling, Mister Moreau. I see you visited Copenhagen, Amsterdam and Zurich in the last few months."

Neal hesitated a second. He could pretend that he did not understand French. He was an American after all, and Americans had a reputation of not speaking foreign languages. If he had committed a crime, it could help him buy some time, but he was innocent. He chose to answer the questions right away.

"Europeans cities have many wonders to share. Travelling around is not a crime, as far as I know. Why am I here?"

"My colleagues did not tell you? Sorry about that."

The women opened the file in front of her and started showing pictures.

_"Portrait of a man_, painted by El Greco between 1570 and 1575. Stolen at the Statens Museum for Kunst in Copenhagen on July 12th. Where were you, on July 12th, Mister Moreau?" She did not let him answer and kept on. "_The Bedroom_, painted by Van Gogh in 1888, stolen at the Van Gogh Gallery in Amsterdam on August 14th. You were in The Nederland in August, I believe? Oh, here comes my favorite, _The Chariot_, a bronze sculpture created by Alberto Giacometti in 1950. It disappeared from the Kunsthaus Zurich on September 19th. It makes a lot of coincidences, don't you think?"

Neal was speechless. He had heard about those heists, of course. He was quite impressed by the job even. Targeting such high profiles institutions, takes major works of art without leaving a trace and without hurting anyone, it had gotten his attention. But he had nothing to do with those heists. The art thief, he had once been was now retired. There was no reason for the police to talk to Victor Moreau. His money should not raise questions. He had inherited it legally. At least, that's what any research would show. So why was he here?

"I heard about those crimes in the news, Mrs., but I don't see what I have to do with it. I never stole anything."

His smile had not budged.

"You were in Copenhagen on July 12th. You left Denmark on the 15th to go to Amsterdam. You left the Nederlands on August the 19th to travel to Switzerland. A country where you stayed a little longer. You flew out of Zurich on September the 28th. To come to Paris. Paris and its numerous museums of Art. I don't believe in chance."

"Me neither", Neal thought to himself, but he did not take the risk to speak out. His brain was spinning at full speed. What did it all mean? Had someone found out he was alive and well? Had someone decided he should take a fall for crimes he could have committed but was innocent of?

"Silence will lead you nowhere, Mister Moreau. Interpol has sent an agent. Together, we'll discover the bottom line of this story."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Neal didn't get a chance to answer. The door opened behind him and what he heard made his blood run cold.

"Neal?"

Diana's voice was unsure, full of incredulity. Neal saw the life he had built over the last two years crumble in an instant. His perfect identity, the one no one was could burn, just collapsed like a house of cards. Slowly, the former con man stood up to face the woman who had been a colleague and a friend for such a long time in New York.

"Hello, Diana."

That was all he could say. For once in his life, he was lost for words. Diana was speechless, unable to grasp this impossible truth. Neal was alive, he lied to everyone. To Peter and Elisabeth, who had a child while mourning a friend. To Mozzie, who was way too overwhelmed with sadness and grief to have just played a role. To Jones, who didn't show his true feelings, but miss the CI greatly. To herself, who lived with her guilt from that fateful day. Without realizing what she was doing, she slapped the young man. A reaction that expressed her grief and her sadness of having been lied to for so long.

The sound of the slap rang in the interrogation room, forcing Julie to react. The Captain was on her feet in seconds, standing between her suspect and the woman who hit him.

"Mrs., I don't know who you are and where you come from, but in my precinct, no one slaps a suspect!"

"I think I deserved it," Neal murmured.

Diana turned her gaze from him to the woman.

"I'm Diana Berrigan, I work for Interpol. This man is Neal Caffrey. He supposedly died over two years ago and he is probably guilty of the heists we're investigating."

That being said, Diana turned her heels and left. The Captain started smiling. The case seemed to be closed.

"I guess we'll have a lot of things to discuss, Mister Caffrey."

The criminal's eyes were as cold as ice when he answered.

"I'll speak only to Agent Berrigan."

Behind the façade, Neal was praying, hoping his friend would believe him. Appearances worked against him, but he was innocent. He just had to convince Diana that he was telling the truth, and find whoever had committed those crimes.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Neal had lost track of time. He had been alone in the interrogation room for hours. The Captain cuffed him upon leaving and he had to fight the urge to free himself from the restraints. Stay put. Wait. Prove to Diana that he did not intend to flee. That he was willing to tell her what he knew, even if it wasn't much. That he was ready to explain what happened all those years ago, why he had to lie to everyone and leave New York and never come back. But in order to do so, he needed someone to talk to.

The door opened behind him. He fought the urge to turn around. He simply kept staring at the wall in front of him. He heard heels coming closer, and Diana appeared beside him. She sat down without a word. Her gaze was full of reproach, but Neal did not look away. He didn't want to be the first to speak. He hoped she would uncuff him as a sign of trust, but she didn't move. Motionless and silent. Finally, he could not stand it anymore.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I know that you think I betrayed you, but I only wanted to protect you. You, Jones, Peter and Elisabeth. Even Mozzie doesn't know that I'm alive. It was the price to pay."

This introduction surprised Diana. She had expected the con man to find a huge lie, an incredible story to explain the situation. She also thought that he would claim his innocence regarding the crimes she was investigating. In fact, she expected anything but excuses.

Faced with his friend's muteness, Neal kept talking. He was desperate to help her understand what happened.

"I knew that Woodford would seek revenge. I knew that betraying the Panthers came with a price. I knew that if I survived, they would come after the people I cared about. So I decided to die. I had everything planned. Keller's reaction, the gun loaded with blanks, the blood bag, the ambulance woman whom I paid so she would pretend I had really been shot. The pill that made me look dead. The safe house where I stayed afterwards. The drive out of New York and the flight out of the US. I knew there would be no coming back. Even behind bars, the Pink Panthers would seek revenge against all of you if they ever found out I was alive. I'm so sorry."

Diana had been staring at him while he was talking. She knew him enough to realize that the con man was sincere. But she was also aware of the fact that he was a very good liar, who could convince anyone he was telling the truth, even the best of cops. But his story sounded real. The gang would never let a traitor go on with his life. And there were still the art thefts. Who other than the great Neal Caffrey could perform such heists without leaving a single trace? Probably no one. She had to ignore her feelings, it was her duty.

"We're not here to talk about the past, Caffrey. Where were you on July 12th, August 14th and September 19th? We already know you stayed in the cities where the heists took place. What were you doing there?"

Neal was hurt when he heard Diana called him by his last name. He wasn't Neal anymore, just Caffrey. A criminal, not a friend. He kept silent for a little while, he needed time to think this through. He could call a lawyer. Something he had never done before, not even the first time Peter caught him, such a long time ago. That memory broke his heart. He was good, he knew how to answer without lying and with no risk of incriminating himself. Ask for an attorney would make him look guilty. He had nothing to hide. Since he supposedly died, he had done nothing illegal.

"I was searching for inspiration. I've used a lot of sketchbook pages. I painted too, even so my original work does not sell as easily as the copies I once made," he explained, a small smile playing on his lips.

"How do you make a living?"

"I have some savings. I don't need much."

Diana was skeptical. Neal Caffrey always had a taste for luxury and he lived in a mansion in the 16th District. His house probably cost him a fortune.

"Where do these savings come from?"

"There was a time when I had a very profitable job, but I retired," he answered, not even flinching.

"Do you have anything to do with these heists, Neal?"

Coming back to a first name base took him by surprise. He answered on a smoother note.

"I have nothing to do with it, I swear. I've done a lot of things in my life, but I have not stolen anything since I left New York. I do my best to be the man Peter would like me to be, even so he will never know."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

When she walked out of the interrogation room, Diana did not know what to think. What she saw in Neal's eyes made her believe he was telling the truth. She was certain he cared enough to have left New York just to protect his friends. On the other hand, the heists had to be the work of a criminal genius. And non-violent criminal geniuses did not roam the streets.

"I'm going to need some help," Diana thought. She did a sum. Neal had been in custody for about ten hours. A custody time that the French police could easily extend. That meant she had 38 hours to summon the only person able to solve this case. The one human being on earth Caffrey had never lied to.

Diana pulled her phone from her purse. After all those years, she still had her former boss on speed dial. Not caring about the jet lag, she made the dreaded phone call.

WC*WC*WC

Peter was about to go back to the office after a lunch with his wife and son when his phone started to ring. Since he had accepted an administrative job in DC, calls during his breaks had become rare. It was the same job he had turned down a little over two years ago. His CI's death and his son's birth – a Neal for a Neal – made him change his mind. Nowadays, he worked only on office hours and could spend a lot of time with his family. His life was also no longer in danger. The only threat was boredom. Elisabeth felt safer, and the three of them were happy. He also did not have any reason to take an interest about a certain container no one except himself knew about. After all, Neal was most certainly dead. His last con was too huge, it probably did not work.

Taking his phone, Peter was surprised to see Diana's name on the screen. Since Neal's death, she rarely called. He did send emails every once in a while, with pictures of his family. She would answer, showing Theo's face, as if she wanted to remind her friends that he was growing up, too. They had not talked to each other in months.

"Peter Burke."

"Hi, Peter. This is Diana. I hope I don't disturb you."

"Of course not. It's always a pleasure to hear your voice. How is Theo?"

"He's doing great," she laughed. "His French is better than his English, and no one can resist his smile. What about Elisabeth and little Neal?"

"They're doing fine. He seems to grow by the minute. But I guess you're not calling about family business?"

"You're right. I…"

Silence fell on the line. Peter was not used of hearing Diana waver. He chose to let the time go by. Finally, his friend spoke again.

"I need your help, Peter. I'm working on a case and I don't know how to solve it."

"What is it about?"

"You've heard about those art thefts in Copenhagen, Amsterdam and Zurich?"

"Yes, I read about it in the newspaper. It reminded me of the time spent chasing Neal. I miss him so much."

Peter blamed himself for not saying out loud what he thought he knew, but he made that choice a long time ago. He could not change his mind. On the other end of the line, Diana was biting her lip. She could not tell him like that. Not over the phone with hundreds of miles between them.

"That's exactly why I called. Interpol has reasons to believe that the thief is now in Paris, planning his next heist. This is my case. Since he reminds me so much of Neal, I'd like you to join me in this investigation, but I can't make it official. It would take way too much time, and the bird would fly."

"Well… you know… I have a lot of work." As he answered, Peter realized he was fooling himself. He had days off to take, and he dreamed of going back on the field, even if it meant only giving an unofficial hand to an Interpol investigation. And a little voice in his head could not help but suggest that maybe, Neal was truly behind those heists.

"Let me make some phone calls, see if I can get off work. Then, I'll try and find a plane ticket."

"I took the liberty to book you on the 8:30 pm flight to Paris. I know it's fast, but I really need you."

"I… OK, I'll do what need to be done. See you very soon, Diana."

As he hung up, Peter realized that his wife was staring at him.

"You're going to see Diana? She is not in Europe anymore?"

"Actually, she is in Paris. She needs help with a case. I couldn't say no."

"I know that you miss the field, and Neal and I can survive a couple of days without you, but… are you sure it's a good idea? Don't you think it might reopen old wounds?"

Elisabeth remembered vividly the long nights and the nightmares that followed the Pink Panthers take down. Her husband had suddenly felt better and she never understood why. She was scared he would sink into depression again.

"I think it would be a way for me to get over it. It might be exactly what I need."

Peter had never told his wife about his suspicion. She had mourned Neal and got over his death by the time he discovered the container. He did not want to give her false hope. He kissed her and called his boss to check whether he could take a couple of days off. He gave an excuse, saying a sick old friend needed to see him right away. It was not really far from the truth, after all. He packed a small suitcase and took a cab to the airport.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was 10:30 am. Diana was impatiently waiting for her mentor whose plane landed a couple of minutes earlier at Charles de Gaule airport. She was nervous. Neal was still in custody. He had no idea what she was up to. She chose not to tell either man what she plotted. She wanted to see Neal's face when he would see Peter. She was certain that she would know at that moment whether the con man told the truth. At least, that was her hope.

As for Peter, she did not have the courage to tell him the truth over the phone. Of course, she could still tell him everything on the drive to the precinct, but deep inside her, she knew she wouldn't do it.

Finally, she saw Agent Burke, who was looking for her in the crowd. She waved at him and they hugged for a long time, without uttering a word. Peter was the one to break the spell.

"Diana, you look amazing! It's a pleasure to see you."

"The pleasure is all mine, Peter. Thanks a lot for coming. I suggest we go directly to the precinct so I can keep you up to date with the case."

"Well, it's just that I'm a bit tired after such a long journey. Can't we stop by my hotel?"

"We have a suspect in custody and we won't be able to keep him there for long. Each minute counts."

"If you have a suspect, why do you need me?"

"He is… tough."

They walked to the parking lot. Diana settled behind the wheel and they drove in silence to the precinct. Both of them were deep in the memory of so many car rides, in another country, on another continent, in another life. Way too fast, according to Diana, they made it to their destination.

"Just a second, I'm going to make sure that we can see the suspect."

With these words, Diana left Peter to wait in the hall. She walked to the officer in charge and ask that Neal would be reinstalled in an interrogation room with no chance of seeing them. Then, she went back near Peter. They did not wait long. A couple of minutes later, they were led to their suspect.

Diana chose to open the door and enter first. She wanted to see Neal's reaction when he would realize she was not alone. The young man was looking down at his cuffed hands when the door opened. He raised his head slowly. Diana stepped aside, letting him see Peter.

The silence that fell on the interrogation room was deafening. Both men were staring at each other. After what seemed like hours, Peter crossed the room in long strides, caught his best friend by the shoulders, lifted him and hugged him.

"I knew it," he murmured. "Deep inside, I knew it. I've known ever since I opened the container. Thank you for helping me figure it out. I was turning crazy. I had the feeling I had killed you."

Neal did not stay petrified very long. In the blink of an eye, his hands were free from the cuffs and he was hugging the other man back, the man who taught him that another life was possible, in spite of his past and in spite of the lies.

On the other side of the room, Diana watched silently as the two friends celebrated their reunion. Neal's face had given her the answer she expected: he was innocent. Peter's words, on the other hand, rang strangely in her hears. The two men finally split up and the three of them sat down around the table.

"I'm sorry for not warning you, Peter," Diana started.

Peter cut her off.

"I think I understand why you did not. You wanted to know whether Neal was telling the truth. And you wondered whether I helped him disappear. Am I right?"

"Yes. I had my doubts. I thought that Neal could never leave and let you believe he was dead."

"Yet I did, for several months. Until Elisabeth and I got a bottle of 82 Bordeaux. She did not make the connection. I did. I took out the personal effects I received at the hospital. There was that key. I did some digging and I found the container Neal had left behind. Then, I understood. I wanted to have faith, even if I saw Neal's body at the morgue."

"I'm right here if you need me," Neal sighed. "I guess you'd like an explanation."

"I already had one," Diana answered.

"You thought that if you stayed, we would all be in danger. So you chose to leave, never wondering whether we could survive without you. You broke El's heart. And I won't even talk about Mozzie. He stayed in New York for some time, until we decided to move to Washington. Since that day, he's gone off the radar. I used every FBI resources I could to find him, but I didn't."

Neal was thunderstruck. He had hoped that his friend would find comfort with Elisabeth, and even Peter, because despite his loathing of G-men, Mozzie truly liked the Burkes. He gazed at Diana. Since Theo's birth, she and Mozzie had built up a strange but intense relationship. She gently shook her head. She had not heard of the little man in months either.


	7. Chapter 6

**Author's note: **To be clear, Peter does not speak French. He understands a little, but he's not fluent. Diana and Neal are. Captain Lescaut speaks in French, but it would have been hard to read if I had kept her part in French. So, everything in italic from now on is spoken in French. Everything else is in English. I will just keep a couple of sentences in French, but you don't need to understand them to get to the point.

I also corrected the typography according to a Guest review. I hope it will make things better for everyone. Don't hesitate to leave a comment!

**Chapter 6**

The silence that followed the announcement of Mozzie's disappearance was broken by the door of the interrogation room. Captain Lescaut was standing on the threshold, flanked by Detective Motta. Both people stared blankly at the scene. On one side of the table sat their suspect, uncuffed. On the other side, sat the Interpol Agent and an unknown man wearing a cheap crumpled suit, as if he just arrived after a long journey. The three persons in the room turned toward the intruders, looking surprised.

Diana was the first one to react. She stood up and introduced Peter in French.

"_Captain Lescaut, this is Special Agent Peter Burke from the FBI. He flew in this morning to help us solve our case." _

She left out the fact that the agent in question was not here on official business. Working with Neal, she learned a long time ago that lying by omission was not really lying. Sort of.

"_Peter, I'd like you to meet Captain Julie Lescaut and Detective Vincent Motta." _

"Pourquoi le suspect n'est pas menotté?_ "_ Lescaut asked.

"As if cuff could hold him," Peter breathed.

"You're not helping," Neal hissed.

Diana glowered at them before speaking again.

"_We have reason to believe that Mister Caffrey has been set up. Even if appearances are against him, some clues tend to prove that he is innocent. He agreed to help us with the case."_

_"__Yesterday, you were willing to throw him in jail without further ado, and now, you're telling me he's a victim? You also told me that he faked his death. Do you think that I'm an idiot?"_

Even if he was far from fluent in French, Peter could tell things were about to get complicated. He suddenly decided to step in.

"Excuse me, but I think that there is a very simple explanation."

Peter spoke in English, using all the authority he could show. Diana and Neal looked at him, eager to discover that mysterious explanation and trying not to show their ignorance.

"Mister Caffrey helped us catch the infamous Pink Panthers in New York a couple of years ago, Peter continued. He worked undercover, which allowed us to catch them red handed. Sadly, the gang got wind of his involvement in the FBI operation. His life was in danger. So he joined the Witness protection program. We helped him fake his death and then, we provided a new identity in Europe, so he could start a new life. For his safety, you must keep his name out of all official reports. You can only use the name Victor Moreau."

Peter stopped talking, praying that his story would be accepted as the truth. The Captain looked at him doubtfully. Her colleague, almost bilingual, translated Peter's explanation. Even if she did not seem convinced, Julie backed off.

"_Fine. We'll let you work. Don't hesitate to contact us if you need anything." _

When the door closed behind the two cops, Neal turned to Peter, with a look of amazement and a huge smile.

"You just lied to two law officers, and without batting an eyelid. I'm proud of you, Peter."

"I hope I won't have to regret it. If they check my story, we could very well share a prison cell."

Neal seemed to hesitate before he finally asked the question that bothered him.

"Why do you trust me after everything I did?"

"Last time you swore you were innocent, I did not believe you. I don't want to see you jump out of a judge's chamber."

The answer touched Neal more than he was ready to show. To hide his embarrassment, he suggested to leave the precinct.

"My humble residence will be perfect for us to work on the case."

Both his friends agreed.

Humble was the last of the names you would give the house in question.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The house was as grandiose as June's in New York. Located in the 16th District, about a hundred meters from the Avenue Foch, the three floor mansion proudly stood in the middle of a beautiful garden. The white front and the light gray shutters gave a feeling of calm and peace.

"You couldn't settle for a small two-room flat, could you?"

Neal rolled his eyes.

"I could, but I would not have room for the art studio. And find a place to stay in Paris is a real nightmare, this was my sole option. Well, the only one that did not involve robbing a bank."

Peter was doubtful about the last part, but decided not to argue. The three of them entered the house. Diana and Peter could not suppress a cry of surprise. The inside was even more stunning than the outside. A stone staircase led to the upper floors, as did an ancient elevator with a wrought iron gate. On the right, the living room seemed to expect visitors. A marble fireplace stood in one corner, in front of a huge bay window opening on the luxuriant garden. You could easily forget you were in the middle of the City of Light.

"You can settle on one of the rooms on the 1st floor. I sleep in the first one on the right of the stairs. The other two are free. Each of them has its own bathroom. Feel free to choose the one you prefer."

"What about the second floor?" Diana asked.

"That's my art studio. With the bay window and the view, it's perfect."

"How surprising," Peter answered. "I'm really tired from the journey. I'm going to take advantage of your hospitality to shower and get some rest. I need to be fit before investigating our case."

"I didn't know that the Archeologist could be tired," Neal smiled. "I'm going to cook a little something while we wait for you. We can start working as soon as you're ready. "

WC*WC*WC

A little over an hour later, the three friends sat around the table in the kitchen, facing a bowl of salad_ périgourdine_.

"Does a little something necessarily contain duck breast and foie Gras?" Peter could not help asking.

"You're in France, enjoy it!"

They ate in silence for a some time before Diana started talking.

"If we assume that you're innocent, Neal, we have to wonder if your presence on the scenes of the heists is only a coincidence. None of us believe in chance. So here comes the next question. If the thief wanted you to be there when he stroke, how did he do it?"

"We could reverse the question," Peter suggested. "The thief either made sure that you would come the city he was targeting, or he chose the target, according to the places you chose to go to. Both options are likely."

Neal turned the idea over and over in his mind.

"I'd lean more towards Diana's theory. Such projects take time to organize, and I only stayed in those cities for four to five weeks. You don't rob the Van Gogh Gallery with so little time at hand without collateral damage. It's the same with the Statens Museum for Kunst in Copenhagen and the Kunsthaus in Zurich. It is impossible."

"OK. Then I guess you have to tell us why you decided to roam around Europe."

"I think that I need to start from the beginning, from the moment I left New York, so that you can understand what I've done for the last two years. I believe that we're going to need another bottle of wine. And no, Peter, I don't have beer."

Taking a bottle of wine and three glasses, Neal headed toward the living room. The afternoon was going to be a long one, so they'd better settle comfortably. Both his friends followed him, curious as to what they were about to hear.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Neal took his time. He seemed to spare the suspense, but in fact, he was trying to organize his memories. He also wanted to enjoy his friends' presence at his side. He uncorked the bottle, and poured some drops in his glass. He smelled the wine before tasting. Then, he filled the three glasses and sat down on the armchair, facing Diana and Peter who settled on the couch.

"I don't know where to start. I'm not sure what could be important for our case." Neal said.

"I'm going to speak for both of us, I think" Peter replied. "I'd like to know what happened after... After Mozzie and I identified your corpse at the morgue."

"Of course. It is as good a start as any."

FLASHBACK

The first thing he felt was the cold. A freezing cold that pierced the body bag. He had dreaded waking up in complete darkness, but luckily someone had left the bag open. Coming slowly back to his senses as the pill's effect receded, he observed his surroundings. You did not get the chance to discover a morgue through a dead man's body very often.

He could not tell how much time had passed when he decided he was awake enough to try and stand up. He fully opened the body bag and stepped down the stretcher, making sure his legs could carry him. Then, he walked towards the drawer number 14. An unclaimed body was waiting for him, along with clothes, a driving license and a passport. Moving the body inside the bag was not easy, but he finally succeeded. The undertaker would come and get him very soon, and they would cremate him without anyone seeing him ever again, as asked in his last will.

In one of the jacket pocket, he found a car key and a piece of paper telling him where to find the vehicle. He put on the baseball cap and the sunglasses, then made his way down the hall. Leaving the hospital was child's play, no one had reason to ask questions. He sat behind the wheel and took off. He had a safe house ready in the middle of the Bronx, where no one, not even Peter or Mozzie would think of looking for him if they had doubts.

Thinking about them hurt, even more than he had anticipated. He did not lie to Peter upon entering the ambulance, but he did not tell the truth either. Yes, Peter was his best friend, but so was Mozzie. Each in their own way, they had found a place in his heart, where he swore he would not let anyone settle after running away at the age of 18. Maybe he should have been honest with Moz, but he had been too afraid to put his life in danger. His plan was too risky.

At least, Mozzie had enough money to last him a lifetime. He left him with 12 millions of dollars out of the 23 they had managed to steal. Keller had taken away the remaining, if everything had gone according to the plan, but he had been caught and would spend the rest of his life in prison. As for Peter, he had everything he needed to figure out the truth. He would find the container and he would understand. And if not, he could always send him a clue. An 82 Bordeaux, for example. Not a message in a bottle, but a bottle as a message.

Neal hid in New York until his burial. He would have loved to hear what people said about him, but he chose to stay safe. And he did not feel strong enough to see his friends, even from afar. He would not have the strength to go on with his plan. Then, he took off. Washington was probably not the safest way, but the odds of meeting with one of Kramer's agents who worked on the U-Boat case were low. He took the chance. Four days after his death, he was on a plane to Paris.

WC*WC*WC

Peter and Diana listened without interrupting. They remembered the grief and the sadness. They remembered that a huge crowd came to Neal's funeral. Agents from all FBI divisions, who had learned to like the CI and who were impressed by the Pink Panther take down. By giving his life, Neal proved his loyalty to the Bureau, even in the eyes of the most skeptical.

"You planned this on your own, with no outside help?" Peter inquired.

"I paid the ambulance people and the medical examiner. No one else had a clue. I knew that Victor Moreau was a safe identity. Nor the FBI, nor Interpol, nor any criminal heard about him. Only Mozzie could connect the dots, but he never came looking for me, sadly."

A shadow passed across Neal's face. He wondered what happened to his other best friend. The one who taught him everything he knew. The one who showed him, he could be a criminal without becoming a monster.

Peter felt his friend was about to be overwhelmed by emotion.

"And once in Paris, what did you do?" he asked.

"I bought this house. I needed a place to stay. This new start was my chance to become a real artist. I set up the art studio and started painting."

"No criminal activities?"

"Not even a wallet in the subway. I haven't pickpocketed for over two years. I've painted a couple of copies, but they are identified as such."

"But, in the container, there was this article about security at the Louvre…"

"That's why I came to Paris in the first place. But… I…." Neal stopped. He searched for the right words. "In fact, I told myself I needed to change. You risked so much for me that I could not get caught again. You would have been in so much trouble. So I became a law-abiding citizen."

"A law-abiding citizen who bought a mansion with stolen money."

"I cannot confirm nor deny," Neal smiled. "I needed something to start an honest and discreet life. I thought that with the Pink Panthers take down, no one would spend much time searching for the missing money."

"What about Mozzie?" Diana asked. "You left him with nothing?"

"Of course not. I left him a little more than half of what we found in the New York undergrounds."

"Found? I see you haven't lost your touch when it comes to playing with words." Peter laughed.

"Old habits die hard. Anyway, Moz knew that Keller took part of the money, but he did not know what part. I guessed he would not realize that I also had my share."

Those words made Peter look up.

"He discovered it. It was my fault."

"How so?"

"A couple of months after you disappeared, I came to see him. He was playing Find the lady on Wall Street. We spoke about our stages of grief. Upon leaving, I asked him if he knew where the missing money was. I vividly remember telling him that we found 9 millions of dollars on Keller, and that 23 million were still unaccounted for."

Neal was in shock. I Mozzie knew that 11 million were missing, he should also know he was alive. Then why didn't he come looking for him?

Peter continued with his story.

"On that same night, Mozzie came home to see Neal. He told him the Nazi U-boat story. That's the last time I saw him."

"Neal?"

"My son. We called him Neal Georges. It was our way to keep you close."

Emotion overwhelmed Neal. He hugged his friend tightly.

"I missed you so much, you have no idea."

"All those memories are very moving, but I don't see how they're going to help us solve the case." Diana interrupted.

The young woman was right. They could not spend any more time down memory lane. The thief could strike any day. A new heist would set the police force on edge, and put Neal in danger.

"We need to discover how the thief managed to make you travel to the cities he was planning to hit. Why did you go to Copenhagen?"

While hearing Peter's question, Neal knew that lead would be very hard to follow.

"Someone ordered me a piece of art. A man contacted by email. He had seen my work in a gallery and wanted to order a triptych of a special kind."

"How special?"

"Nothing scabrous, don't worry. He wanted me to paint emblematic places in three European cities. He told me about the Little Mermaid in Copenhagen, Ann Frank's house in Amsterdam and the Ufenau Island on the lake of Zurich. He wanted a three paneling piece with those three specific places."

"You did not find that odd?"

"Not really. The exhibition at the gallery showed several triptychs made in that model, with different views of New York." Neal stopped talking, smiling fondly. "I painted one that shows the FBI building, your house, and June's place. I'm sure you would love it. Anyway, the order did not seem odd at the time, except for the fact that the three places did not have anything to do with each other."

"That explains why you traveled to these cities, not how the thief managed to have you there when he wanted you to be."

"The man organized everything. He booked the plane tickets and the hotels in which I stayed. He told me to take my time and that he would pay for anything I needed while I was studying the places. I didn't need being asked twice. I had moved away from Paris for two years."

"We can reasonably believe that this man has something to do with the heists."

"I thought about it, but it's going to be difficult, I never met him. We only had contacts through emails. I'm painting the pieces right now. He wants them delivered in six months, which is way enough time for me to finish them. He left me with no instruction. I can do whatever I want. His only wish is a triptych showing the three places. I have no reason to contact him."

"If you do, he will probably disappear."

The three friends kept silent for a while, each of them going over their options. Diana was the first one to come up with an idea.

"Detective Motta, I've heard he is some kind of geek. I could ask him to try and trace those emails. If we can follow the computer track, we might very well be able to find who made you travel across Europe."

"Why not Interpol?" Neal asked.

"A lot of agents worked on your case over the years. Even if it was a long time ago, I don't want to risk one of them recognizing you.

Diana had a point. If any Interpol agent made a connection between Victor Moreau and Neal Caffrey, he would end up in jail in no time, long before they caught the real culprit. Diana stood up.

"I'm going there now. I think you still have a lot to share, both of you."

"I mainly need to get some sleep." Peter replied.

Once Diana was gone and Peter was asleep, Neal stayed alone in the living room. He wondered what happened to Mozzie. Worrying about his friend was useless. He needed to find him.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Diana drove back to the precinct right away. She hoped that Detective Motta would not ask too many questions, and that he would be rather pleased to have an Interpol agent request his help. She found him in his office, a room with no windows, but with walls painted a depressing shade of yellow. The policeman had his back to the door, he was doing some research on the internet. Diana knocked on the door-frame.

"I'm sorry to disturb you while you work, but I need your help."

The detective quickly shut the page he was surfing on and turned around, but the reaction did not worry the young woman. She thought he was busy with some private research and did not want to have trouble with his boss.

"What can I do for you?"

"The man you had in custody, Neal. He was not in the cities where the crimes took place by accident. He was sent there by a man who ordered him a painting. We have to find whoever it is."

"And you need me because…?"

"Neal never met him. He only had contact through email. I've heard you were the one person who could help me."

A little flattery from time to time could not do any harm. "I underestimated Neal's influence on my behavior", Diana told herself, and while using her most charming smile. She handed on the notebook the reformed con man gave her. One more proof that he had nothing to hide.

Detective Motta took the computer and turned it on.

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't make any promises."

"What can I do for you while you work? Would you like a coffee?"

"I'd love one. Black, with a lot of sugar."

Diana took her time, she didn't want to put pressure on the young man. She came back about twenty minutes later, carrying two steaming cups that smelled really good.

"Italian roast. It's the best."

"Thanks. But I'm afraid I only have bad news. The person who sent those emails wanted to stay anonymous. The messages passed through a huge amount of servers around the world. I wasn't able to find the source. I'm sorry."

Diana digested the news by sipping her coffee. They would need another way to follow the trail of the mysterious buyer. She thanked Detective Motta and was about to leave when the young man called her.

"You seem very close to the suspect. Are you sure he's not trying to fool you?"

"With Neal, I was never sure of anything, but I believe he changed. I hope so, at least."

She walked out of the door to go back to Neal's, leaving alone an inquisitive cop.

The detective turned back towards his computer and reopened his browser at the page he was reading earlier. He was stunned to find how many crimes Neal was suspected of over the course of the years. The list was impressive. It seemed that nothing could resist the con man. Motta kept searching the Interpol database. He thought that the story around Neal's new identity was odd.

He was about to give up when a detail caught his attention. Neal Caffrey had died a couple of times before being arrested. He faked his death at least twice. Once in a car crash, and once… he let people believe he perished in a shark attack. In other words, he could totally disappear right under the American government's nose.

Vincent Motta decided to get to the bottom of the story. He made a few phone calls until he could speak with an agent at the international relations office of the FBI. The man on the line made things clear. The Bureau never helped criminals disappear. The witness protection program only took place on American soil, for logistical reasons. To protect the life of a person in a foreign country would be way too complicated and expensive. The detective decided to push his luck and threw Neal's name in the conversation. The answer was final: Caffrey was dead and buried, he was not part of any FBI program.

The detective hung up, pensive. Diana Berringan and her American friend, so-called FBI agent, lied to the French police. They protected a criminal. A thief whose profile corresponded perfectly with the one they supposed to chase. He needed to talk to Captain Lescaut.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The next morning, Diana arrived early at the mansion. She made a detour at a bakery, sure that some fresh croissants would help them reflect on the case. She found Neal and Peter in the garden, along with a steaming Italian coffee maker. If the con man looked tired, the agent seemed to have gone over the jet lag. Diana sat down at the table and poured herself a cup of coffee before speaking.

"Bad news, tracking the emails did not lead us anywhere. The sender covered his trail. It's impossible to reach back to him."

"I'm not surprised," Neal replied. "The good news is that it tends to prove that this man has something to do with the case, otherwise he would have no reason to hide his identity."

Silence fell on the trio. Each of them were deep in their own thoughts, trying to find a way to move forward. Peter was the first to talk.

"Those three heists were performed according to your MO. I think that's what we should use as a start."

The other two watched him, confused.

"The targets were pieces you would choose," he continued, "and the means used were the same that you've used in the course of your career."

"Allegedly."

"Allegedly, if you like." Peter sighed. "What I mean is that we should wonder what you would do if you were the culprit. What would your next target be?"

Neal's eyes lit up. It was obvious. If the criminal copycatted him, they just had to take him at his own game.

"The Louvre." He answered without the slightest hesitation. "That's why I came to Paris in the first place. And it is the safest museum on earth. It would have been my greatest hit if I had not given it up."

"If we want to catch this guy, we'll need to…"

"Think about the best way to rob the Louvre." Neal interrupted.

"Neal Caffrey style." Peter rounded up.

Both friends eyed each other with a smile on their face. Facing such a challenge, their complicity was back at its full strength. Diana seemed a little on the defensive.

"What if it does not lead us anywhere?" she said. "What if our thief committed the three heists that he planned and does not reappear?"

"It is possible, indeed." Peter replied. "You should keep searching on your side while we take care of the Louvre lead."

Even if she was far from convinced, Diana agreed with the plan. She drank the last drop of her coffee and took her leave to go back to her Interpol office.

Once she was gone, Neal and Peter decided to settle inside the mansion. It would be more comfortable to scheme the greatest heist of the century. In the living room stood a long white wall with a painting of the New York skyline. Neal took it down and replaced it with cork board, he had taken from his art studio. That was all the equipment he needed to organize his ideas.

He got the museum blueprints out of a folder, and pinned them up on the board. Every security measures were visible.

"You didn't just think about stealing something there." Peter noticed.

"Not really. I only thought about it, but I thought about it a lot. It kept my mind occupied when I missed New York too much. The blueprints are probably not exactly accurate, but they'll have to do for now."

"We could have asked Diana to find more recent ones."

"It's risky, it could arise suspicion, and scare away our thief."

They set to work with the data they had. Security at the Louvre was totally rethought two years before, just when Neal left the United States. There probably had only been minimal changes since then. Peter asked the first question to cross his mind.

"First, we need to find a way in and a way out, right?"

The reflection made Neal smile.

"Going in and out is not going to be a problem. You see, Museums are open spaces, designed to welcome a lot of people. The Louvre is no exception. Nine million visitors walk thought its doors every year, in both ways. What is tough, is to walk out with a piece of art. But I think we should start from the beginning. What are we targeting?"

"You tell me, you're the one the thief is copycatting."

Neal stood up and disappeared for a little while. He came back with the picture of a painting that he pinned up in the middle of the museum blueprints. It showed a path on which two characters were moving towards each other. The closest one was seen from behind and was riding a donkey. On the other side, a woman was walking. The sky was filled with clouds, opening a perspective on Paris. You could see the city far away, in the mist.

"_The road to Sevres_. It was painted by Jean-Baptiste Corot between 1855 and 1865."

"Why this piece in particular?"

"It represents a lost time, when Paris was still surrounded by nature. And the brush-stroke is close to perfection. The mist around Paris makes the light unreal, untouchable."

"OK, Mister Thief, how do we do this?"

"Alleged thief," Neal smiled. "Security at the Louvre is unbeatable. There are motion detectors and cameras here, there and here," he showed on the blueprints. "At least during closing hours."

Peter frowned.

"You don't plan to steal that painting in the middle of the day, do you?"

"I don't plan to steal that painting at all, we're working on a theory. As I said earlier, the Louvre welcomes more than nine million visitors each year, which means that about 30'000 people enter the museum every day, six days a week, since it is closed on Tuesdays. But there are six days in the year when it is even more crowded."

"When?"

"The access to the permanent collection is free of charge the first Sunday of each month, from October to March. On these days, the whole city of Paris comes to the Louvre. A thief would go totally unnoticed."

"But… and security?"

"The motion sensors don't work on opening hours. Some rooms don't have surveillance cameras. The installation is in progress, but it takes time because it's expensive. And most pieces are not protected by specific means that could prevent them from being unhooked from the wall."

"If I get this right, your plan would be to walk in the museum in the middle of the day like any other visitor, to wait to be alone in the room, to take the piece off the wall, and to walk out whistling?"

Neal put on his most shining smile.

"Exactly. Simple and effective."

As he finished his sentence, someone knocked hard on the door.

"Police, open the door immediately."

**Author's note: **If you think Neal's way of stealing a painting at the Louvre is unrealistic, you're wrong. _The Road to Sevres_ was stolen on May 1998 just like he suggests in my story. And it has not been found yet. I don't have the slightest idea as to what the security measures at the Louvre are, but I guess they've been updated since the theft.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Peter remained petrified. Neal was used to police raids. He knew that it was useless to resist or to pretend that the house was empty. He opened the door after stating out loud they were unarmed. That did not prevent the cops from entering with their guns drown. Half of them were pointed towards Neal, who backed off a few steps, and the other half was aimed at Peter. Captain Lescaut came in after her men and saw the cork board on the wall.

"I see we catch you red handed, Mister Caffrey."

"It's not what you think." Neal replied.

"You're telling me you were not planning a heist at the Louvre?"

"OK, it's exactly what you think, but not for the reasons you believe."

Julie ignored him, she waved her team to grab both men. Neal and Peter were cuffed and put in the back of a police car, before being lead to the precinct. In the meantime, the cops started searching the mansion. Installed in a different interrogation room, the two of them could do nothing but wait.

For linguistic reasons, Detective Motta was the one to interrogate Peter. He took Lieutenant David Kaplan with him, since he was also fluent in English.

"Who are you really? No FBI agent would be part of such an operation."

"My name is Peter Burke. I'm head of the White Collar division of the West Coast of the United States. I work at the DC office. My ID is in my jacket in Mister Caffrey's house. If you had asked earlier, it would have saved us some time and trouble."

Peter hid his nervousness behind a very professional aggressiveness. After all, he wasn't used to being on this side of the interrogation. He knew that the cops kept them separated so that one of them would turn on his supposed accomplice. That technique was called the prisoner's dilemma. The agent told himself that Neal would be more capable of putting across the situation and their plan. He needed to buy him enough time to work his charms.

In front of him, both cops shared a knowing look.

"We found your ID, and we called your office. Your boss told us you took a couple of days off to help an old friend."

Peter thanked God for having gone with a lie not too far from the truth.

"Yes, exactly. Agent Berrigan called me to help her with the case. I came as fast as I could."

"To help Interpol or to help Caffrey?"

Peter swore silently. He chose to keep his mouth shut. After all, he needed to buy some time. If Neal could not get them out of that situation, Diana perhaps would.

In the meantime, Neal was facing Captain Lescaut and her colleague Detective Zora Zaouida. The young woman kept silent, letting her boss ask the questions, and trying to read the con man's expressions. A very hard thing to do when he decided to hide his feelings.

"We already know you stole pieces of art in Copenhagen, Amsterdam and Zurich. It would be reasonable to simply confess."

"I did not steal anything. At least nothing that is not covered by the status of limitation." Neal replied without losing countenance.

"With your prior, your mere presence at the crime scene will be enough to indict you."

"Once a con, always a con, is that it? If I had stolen those pieces, I would not be here. We would never have crossed path."

"How so?"

"Because I'm that good. Way too good for you."

Neal was not even bragging. He was telling a simple truth. Someone knocked on the door and a police officer handed a file over to Julie, who took a look before restarting the interrogation.

"We found forgeries at your place. This is a crime."

"Those are not forgeries, they're copies. It is not quite the same."

"You're playing with words." Zora intervened, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I'm stating a fact. A forgery is presented as being the real thing. A copy is just that: a reproduction of a masterpiece. I signed each painting with my own name. The signature is the first part an expert would verify. You did not call an expert, I guess?"

The cutting remark hit home. Julie was upset that her suspect underlined a breach in her investigation.

"Not yet, indeed." She replied. "Anyway, we caught you in the act of planning a heist at the Louvre. That's one thing you can't deny."

"You caught us in the act of wondering how the thief you're trying to arrest would attack the Louvre. It is not exactly the same."

"You like to play on the shades of meaning, Mister Caffrey."

Neal decided to play fair. After all, they would need the logistical support of the French police in order to catch the real culprit. And as he told Julie, all the crimes he may or may not have committed in France were covered by the status of limitation, he did not risk anything. That was one of the reasons why he chose France after his alleged death.

"Your thief committed crimes I could commit. He chose pieces of art that touch me and that I probably would choose. He made sure to direct suspicions towards me and to burn my alias. I think that this is personal. He wanted all that to happen. He wanted me to sit here in front of you. Peter and I assumed that the best way to find whoever did that was to wonder what I would do if I were guilty."

The confession surprised the Captain. She did not expect a criminal with such wide experience at being interrogated to admit to anything so fast. But in truth, the declaration did not really hold the confession of any crime. He only acknowledged to planning a heist that had not taken place yet.

"Fine. Let's imagine that I would believe you. You chose a Museum and a piece. That does not tell us when the theft will occur."

"I think that our man will keep the same rhythm, which means a heist every 5 to 6 weeks. I imagine the timing is a little short until October 2d. I'd lean more towards November 6th. But on the other hand, October is the first free admittance day in six months, so there will be a lot of people."

The Captain and the Detective shared a look. They were impressed by the demonstration. It meant they had a little over a month at best, but maybe only a couple of days to catch the thief, if Neal Caffrey was right.

"And what do you suggest?" Julie asked.

"Whatever date he chose, our thief won't be able to strike without doing some recon first. The best thing we can do is keep an eye on the Museum and try to spot the man."

"And you'd like to take part of the surveillance, I suppose?"

A nostalgic smile appeared on Neal's face upon hearing the question. All those nights spent in the van with Diana and Jones, when he was turning them nuts playing with cuffs or a rubber ball.

"I think that we are your best chance."

Both women shared a look and left the room without a word.

The four cops met in the Captain's office. The conversation that followed was rough. Should they trust the two American or not?


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Even if it did not last very long, Neal felt like he waited forever. He was honest, something that was never his first impulse. By telling the truth, he hoped the two policewomen would trust him. Of course, his file did not speak for him. It contained an impressive list of lies and deceptions, and many alleged theft that would make anyone see him as guilty. When the door finally opened, the con man's heart twinged. He was relieved to see Peter, surrounded by two cops in uniform. They came in and uncuffed him before leaving. Peter and Neal were left alone.

Both kept silent for a while, observing each other.

"What did you say?" Peter asked.

"The truth."

"Telling the police the truth, that's never been your first impulse."

"It seems that you have a terrible influence on me."

They knew they were being watched, but did talk about it.

"Do you think we'll catch him?"

"I mainly think we don't have much of a choice. If we don't bust him, I'm going to end up in jail. He made me the perfect culprit."

Peter digested his friend's words. He did not try to contradict him, because deep down, he knew that he was right.

"He's good, but together, we're better." He simply said.

The door opened. The four cops came in. Kaplan and Zora did not smile. They did not trust the two men, but their boss, with Motta's support, decided otherwise.

"OK. What is your plan to catch that mysterious thief?"

"Patience and observation. He is going to come during opening hour to stake the place. He probably already did."

At that exact time, Diana bust into the precinct. The young woman had tried to reach her two friends since the morning, without success. She went back to Neal's to find that the place had been searched to the bottom. She came to help her team as fast as she could. She stopped dead on the doorstep, not knowing how to grasp what she saw. Neal got her his most innocent smile.

"Something's wrong, Diana?"

"I… What's going on here?"

"Oh! Nothing serious. The French police agreed to help guard the Louvre and catch our thief."

"Actually, you're going to help us catch OUR thief." Captain Lescaut replied.

"I'm not the only one who likes to play with the shades of meaning." Neal smiled.

Diana nearly asked how they got there, but decided against it. Instead, she jumped right on the news that worried her since the morning.

"Neal, your name appeared on Interpol's radar. I don't know how, but if the Pink Panthers find out about it, you and a lot of other people are in great danger."

"Elisabeth!"

"And Jones. And Mozzie. And June. We need to warn them at least."

Neal shivered. That was exactly what he had dreaded. Diana was so stressed that she spoke in English. Only two cops understood what was going on. They translated for their colleagues. Julie realized that Motta's researches had not gone unnoticed.

"_How can we help?_" She asked.

"_We need to call them as soon as possible_."

He looked at Peter. "How do you think El will take the news?"

"She's gonna be happy at first, and then she'll want to kill us both for lying to her."

"Diana, can you call Jones? Peter will call his wife and I'll take care of June."

"Does she…"

"… Know that I'm alive? I didn't tell her, but she might have her doubts." Neal turned to the Captain. "_We need our phones so we can warn them, that would be nice._"

"_I'm sorry that we put you in danger._" Julie was contrite.

"_You were just doing your job._"

The phone calls did not take long. June suspected that her former tenant was alive. The care with which he said goodbye awoke her suspicion. She was glad to have the confirmation that he was well. The old lady swore to be careful. She would hire a new butler with special skills.

Jones was more surprised by the news. In charge of the New York White collar division, he took Peter's job when his former boss decided to go to Washington. He missed Neal even if he would never admit it to anyone. At the end of the conversation, he could not help but ask if there were any hope that the con man would become a CI again. Diana doubted that a tracking anklet would sound nice to Neal.

"We could hire him as a free man, he is so good at what he does." Clinton dreamed out loud.

Diana hung up laughing. She promised she would convey the proposition to the young man.

Elisabeth was the only call left to make. When Peter had her on the line, he did not know how to begin. The silence on the line made his wife imagine a disaster.

"Honey, you're OK?"

"I have something to tell you, I just don't know how."

"Are you hurt? Did something happen to you? Are Diana and Theo alright?"

She shot questions one after the other. Panic started to sound in her voice. Neal, who was done talking to June, decided he was the one who should tell her his secret. He softly took the phone from Peter's hand.

"Hi, El."

She gasped.

"Neal, is that you? Is that really you?"

"The one and only."

"Oh my God. I can't believe it. You're alive, it's great. And you're a monster. How could you? Peter was devastated. I thought he would never overcome your death. And Mozzie. You know he disappeared months ago?"

"I know and I'm sorry. Peter will tell you everything when he comes home. What you need to know is that the Pink Panthers might find out that I'm alive. If it is the case, you are in danger. Is there a place you can go?"

"Well, I…"

Peter reclaimed his phone.

"You've always dreamed of visiting Paris. Why don't you and Neal come here? So you can see him for yourself."

"I… OK. I'll get ready."

Neal signaled his friend that he would get the journey organized.

"My godson deserves first class tickets." He muttered.

"You realized that first class or not, she's going to strangle you when she gets here."

"Just like she's going to strangle you when she understands that I left you enough clues to figure out I was alive and in Paris."

Captain Lescaut chose that time to interrupt.

"It is more than time to organize the Louvre's stakeout, don't you think?"


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Staking out the Louvre during opening hours eased the job a little. But the museum was still huge, as was the task at hand. After reflection, the new team decided to work in groups of two. The Captain supervised the operation, while Diana and Kaplan sat in a car in front of the main entrance, Detective Motta and his partner Zora were assigned on the museum forecourt, and Peter and Neal roamed the institution. That last option raised a lot of questions. The French policemen were not prone to let a convicted felon walk around some of the most valuable pieces of art on earth. They finally agreed when Peter argued that Neal was their best chance at spotting a fellow thief.

The first day did not bring any new element to the investigation. The duos keeping watch outside the museum were bored to death, except Diana and Kaplan. If it took them a while to feel comfortable enough to talk, the young woman ended up sharing a lot of memories from her time in New York. She told the story of Neal's arrest, of his escape from supermax, of his second arrest, and of his work with the FBI. The lieutenant marvelled at the deal the bureau made with a criminal.

"Neal is no ordinary felon," she explained. "He is incredibly smart, and totally non-violent. He is also unbelievably faithful to the people he cares about."

"Do you trust him?"

"Not regarding my bank account, but when it comes to having my back, I do, without the slightest doubt."

While everyone was bored, Peter and Neal walked around the Louvre, from one room to the next. The con man seemed to be interested only in the pieces, except for the one they were actually supposed to keep an eye on. The agent lost patience very fast.

"Neal, we're not here to visit!" he hissed. "We have a job to do."

"And that is exactly what I'm doing," his friend replied, rolling his eyes.

"Really? It does not look like it!"

"Peter, we're looking for someone who plans to steal a painting here. We don't want him to spot us. So, I act exactly like I would if I wanted to carry off a piece. If he sees me, he'll think he got my curiosity, not that I try to have him arrested."

"And did you notice anything yet?"

"About our thief, no. But he'll need to be fast. The guards never stay away from a room for more than three minutes. Their rounds seem random, but they're not. They walk around according to a predetermined plan that does not leave places with no surveillance for too long. Even if cameras are not installed everywhere, they are placed in strategic places. It is impossible to avoid them all. Once the thief hits, he'll have to disappear into the crowd and become invisible. Furthermore, he'll need to leave the museum before anyone realizes the painting is missing, otherwise the doors will be closed and he'll be stuck until each visitor is searched, no matter how long it takes."

Peter was impressed. Even out of the game, Neal was still as efficient as ever.

"Do you miss it?"

The question took Neal by surprise. He pondered for a second before answering.

"Stealing, no. Working without you, yes. I had the thrill without risking prison. And…" he paused. "It gave my life a meaning."

A voice in the speaker announcing that the museum was closing for the night ended the conversation. They met at the precinct for a quick and depressing debrief. The day had proven useless.

They used the same setup the next day. This time, Neal and Peter stayed closer to the alleged target. More than two hours after the opening, the agent heard his friend swear under his breath.

"Neal? What's up?"

The con man was not listening. He walked across the crowd, making sure his partner could not follow. Left alone in the middle of the Louvre, Peter called Diana.

"Neal just disappeared in the crowd. He saw something, but I don't know what."

"What do we do?"

"Stay focused. Call the others and keep your eyes open. I'm going to try and find him."

While Diana explained the situation to Lieutenant Kaplan, who then called Motta and Zora, Peter looked everywhere for his friend. He could not call the museum staff. The mayhem that would follow would ruin any chance they might have to succeed. Over an hour later, he had to admit that Neal had vanished. He called Diana again and suggested they'd get together at the precinct.

The French cops were mad, especially the Captain. They were certain that the con man used them to run away, that no one wanted to steal anything from the Louvre in the first place, and that it was just some kind of scam to buy some time and flee. Diana did not know what to think. She wondered what would force Neal to disappear the way he had. As for Peter, he was lost. He did not think that his friend betrayed them. Well, he did not really believe that. But he was also worried about his wife and son, who were supposed to land a couple of hours later. How could he explain to Elisabeth that he lost the young man once again?

"I'm sure Neal will reappear very soon with new evidences on the case." He finally said, even if he was only half convinced. "Meanwhile, I need to get ready to go pick up my wife at the airport."

He turned around and left the precinct without waiting for a reaction. He took a cab to Neal's mansion. When he opened the door, he heard voices. The argument was intense.

"I can't believe you've done that! I can understand why you had to disappear without a trace and let everyone think you were dead. I can live with the fact that you left the Suit and Mrs. Suit behind. But you steal without me? Hitting the museums we spent so much time dreaming about without me? It is a betrayal, plain and simple betrayal!"

Peter was thunderstruck. He stormed across the ground floor and entered the living room. Neal and Mozzie just stood there, staring at each other.

"I did not steal anything, Moz. All that was in the past. What were you doing at the Louvre? Do you plan on hitting it?

"Never, do you hear me? Never. I do have a sense of honor. I would never betray the memory of our friendship for some pieces of art, no matter how valuable those might be."

"I keep telling you I did not betray you. I did not steal those pieces. I'm innocent."

"Who is it, then? You and I are the only two people on earth who can pull out such jobs. And who could have known which pieces we dreamed of stealing before you went to jail?"

Peter was dazed. Neal never told him about the heists he planned with Mozzie. He could not help but intervene.

"You planned those heist? Neal, why didn't you tell me? It was crucial for the investigation."

Silence fell on the living room. Mozzie turned his gaze slowly towards the agent and back towards his friend. Comprehension emerged on his features.

"You thought it was me. You thought that I decided to go on with our plans and you were scared, I would end up in prison. You were protecting me."

"Yes and no, Moz. I thought it was you at first, until the police linked me to the thefts. I knew you would never put cops on my track on purpose. And then, when Peter told me that he gave you reason to believe I was alive, I realized that… I realized that you would think I hit those places. I was sure you would come."

The tension fell in an instant. Neal still had things to say.

"I feel like I spent the last few days apologizing, but it seems that I'm not done yet. I'm sorry that I lied to you, and that I left without you, Mozzie."

"_There are times when lying is the most sacred of duties_. Eugène Labiche."

"You still love quotes, don't you?"

"_It is the job of poets to have enough ideas to provide a quotation for any given set of circumstances._"

"John Wyndham. And quoting prevents us from expressing our feelings."

The hug that followed expressed both men's feeling in a much better way than any word could. After a moment, Neal broke apart and looked his two friends in the eyes.

"If neither you nor I did this, who could carry on with our plans?"

Neal's question seemed to float in the air. If they did not find the answer, he and Mozzie would still be the only suspects. The little man was the first one to step out of his torpor. He started pacing the living room.

"Even if I rack my brain over and over, I don't remember sharing our plans with anyone."

"And it is impossible that you'd forget, since you suffer from hypermnesia. I'm the one you shared our ideas."

"With whom? Did you decide to carry them through without me?"

Neal sat down on the couch. He looked up at his friend and asked him to come and join him. Mozzie was way too excited to comply.

"So, who did you choose to replace me with? A clone, maybe?"

"I talked about those plans with… Keller."

The confession was a bombshell. Mozzie stopped dead and came to sit by his friend, while Peter tumbled on the armchair. Neal started speaking again, with an unsteady voice.

"It happened back when we were both part of the Panthers. He was talking about the good old days. I had to make him believe I was willing to do whatever it took. And that the money we were about to steal from the gang would be used to carry on great heists. So I told him about our plans to hit the great European museums. I did not take any risks. If my plan worked, Keller would spend the rest of his life behind bars. If it failed, I would probably die. I guess he found a way to get out of prison earlier than I thought."

Mozzie and Peter shared a surprised look. They just realized that Neal was so busy fleeing at the time that he did not know everything that happened after his fake death.

"Keller never went back to jail." Peter corrected.

Neal looked up, startled. He did not understand. He made sure that his nemesis, the man who kidnapped both El and Peter, would face justice. The agent answered the unasked question.

"That day, when you… when you died. I chased him and caught up with him. He knew what he faced if I arrested him. He tried to make me run for you. He said you did not have much time left. I did not understand what he meant then. He had taken a hostage. A young woman he was threatening to shoot."

He stopped talking for a minute, deep in his memories. When he finally found the strength to continue, it was sotto voce.

"He moved away from that poor lady and pointed his gun at me. I only had a second to react. I shot. The bullet hit him in the forehead."

Peter looked up into his friend's eyes.

"Matthew Keller is dead and buried, Neal. Whoever did this, it's not him."


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The news of Matthew Keller's death took Neal by surprise. The young man did not see anyone else who could commit those heists. He simply had no other lead to follow. For the first time since the French police came to arrest him at his place, he thought that he might very well end up back behind bars, and for crimes he was innocent of. Disarray showed on his face.

"We're back where we started." He said.

"Not exactly." Mozzie replied with a mysterious smile. "I knew that our plans required a lot of recon. I also supposed that you wanted to stay hidden, so that you would need an accomplice. After Copenhagen and Amsterdam, I flew to Zurich right away. I wanted to know with whom you replaced me. And if you worked alone, I would find you."

"And?"

"My surveillance paid off. I spotted a lovely young lady acting suspiciously. I tried to follow her to get to you, but the Giacometti was gone before I could approach her."

"I don't see how that helps us." Peter was impatient.

Mozzie shot him an exasperated look.

"Hypermnesia, Suit. I never forget a face."

The little man had just finished talking when Neal rushed upstairs. He came back a couple of minutes later with a sketchbook and a pencil. Under his old accomplice's directions, the mysterious young lady's face became alive on paper. They finally had a lead to follow.

"You'll have to bring that to the precinct without me, Neal. I have to go get Elisabeth and your namesake at the airport."

"Elisabeth is on her way to Paris?" Mozzie was surprised.

"My name appeared in Interpol files. We fear that the Panthers know that I'm alive and seek revenge."

"One more reason to stay as far away from the police as possible! You're alone for that part."

Neal sighed and stood up. He needed a good explanation for his disappearance at the Louvre and the sudden appearance of the culprit sketch.

"Bring El here, Peter. There is way enough room for the three of you. Mozzie? How can we reach you?"

His friend gave him a burner phone.

"I won't be far, mon frère."

WC*WC*WC

Neal went to the precinct alone. He knocked on Julie's office door before entering. The Captain shot him a glower.

"Where have you been? We were seconds away from issuing a wanted notice."

"I'm sorry," he replied with his most charming smile. "I spotted a young lady acting suspiciously and I tried to follow her quietly. I lost her outside the museum."

"You should have come back here right away to work with a sketch artist."

Neal showed his own drawing to the Captain.

"I'm a better at drawing than describing."

"It's… amazing. You're a very talented man. Any idea of who it might be?"

Neal was about to say no when an idea struck him.

"I'm not sure. I thought a lot about who could commit those thefts. There are not many contenders. A lot time ago, I mixed with a man who could fit the description. His name was Matthew Keller."

"Was?"

"I just found out that he died in New York two years ago. He never liked working alone. He very well could have imagined those heists and shared the idea with someone. Someone who decided to go on with the plan."

Julie thought about that explanation for a minute. She felt that the man in front of her did not tell him everything, but his idea was worth a shot.

"I'll see with Interpol. Agent Berrigan will certainly be able to help us."

Neal thanked her and went back to his place. He had to meet an old friend and a little boy.

WC*WC*WC

Neal was sitting in the living room and he was very nervous. It was quite unusual for him to feel this way, but he did not know how Elisabeth would react upon seeing him. His relationship with the young woman had not always been perfect. He lied to Peter for her. More than once, she used him to protect her husband, not worrying about the consequences for the con man. If he understood and still considered her a friend, he had no idea whether the news of him being alive had been a happy one for her. She probably feared for her family safety now that Neal was back in their life.

He heard a car stop in front of the mansion. Peter and Elisabeth's voices got through to him, along with the one of a tired little boy. After a couple of minutes, the door opened on the Burkes. The agent stayed behind, his son in his arms. He let his wife and their lost friend meet each other again. She walked up to Neal and hugged him.

"I'm so happy." She breathed. "I felt so responsible. I asked you to protect Peter and I thought you'd done so at the price of your life. I blamed myself, you have no idea."

Neal felt at ease. Whatever Elisabeth might have felt at the time, she was ready to welcome him back at her side. She stepped aside and waved her husband to come closer with their child in his arms.

"Neal, I'd like to introduce you to Neal." She smiled. Then she turned towards her son. "Neal, honey, this is your godfather."

The little boy was exhausted from the long journey. He held a teddy bear close to his cheek and was staring at Neal with a questioning look.

"Hello, Neal. I'm glad to finally meet you." The con man said. "It's a very pretty teddy bear that you have here. What's his name?"

The toddler seemed to ponder for a while. Under his parent's gaze, he finally answered with a very small voice: "Mozart."

He looked so tired that his mom and dad put him to bed for a nap. While he was asleep, Neal told Elisabeth the story of the last two years of his life. He also brought his two friends up to date with the last development in the case. The next days were going to be crucial.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Diana sat in her office at the Interpol BCN, in the middle of the Direction centrale de la Police judiciaire in the 8th district. She received Neal's drawing of the young woman a while ago and tried to identify her. Keller's file was in the central archives in Lyon, but for the most part, it had been scanned and was available on the intranet. A couple of clicks should allow her to find information if Neal's intuition was right.

Diana could not help but be horrified while reading Keller's record. He was so different from Neal. If the con man never hurts anyone, his former associate did not hesitate to kill whoever stood in his way: cops, accomplices or innocent bystanders. Neal used that inclination towards violence to make his disappearing act look real.

Keller had a lot of known or alleged associates. The trouble was that most of them were either dead or in jail. And the list contained very few women. Yet the answer had to be there somewhere. Captain Lescaut gave no explanation, only the drawing of a girl's face that Diana recognized as Neal's work, and Keller's name. The young agent had no idea how they conclude that the man Peter shot two years before had anything to do with their case. She could not get her mind off that question, so she took her phone and called her former boss.

"Hello Peter. I was wondering why we are only searching in Keller's past? What does he have to do with our investigation?"

Peter hesitated. He was afraid that Mozzie's sudden appearance would make the French police doubt their good faith, but he also trusted Diana.

"It's complicated." He sighed. "It turns out that Neal thought about those heists long before we first arrested him."

"With Keller?" Diana wondered.

"No. With Mozzie. But Neal admitted that he shared the plans with Keller when they were both with the Panthers."

"But… If Keller is dead and if Mozzie knows about Neal's plan, why don't we search in that direction?"

Silence on the line was enough of an answer.

"You talked to him. It's him that Neal followed in the Louvre. Mozzie thought that Neal committed those thefts and started looking for him. Am I right?"

"You are. It's Mozzie who saw the girl in the portrait. We chose not to tell everything to the cops…"

"…Because then you should have introduced Mozzie and that would have made things even more complicated. I understand. I looked into Keller's former accomplices, but it did not lead anywhere. It looks like he never worked with women."

Peter pondered for a while. He thought about the only two women with whom Neal had ever worked. Kate and Alex. Two women with whom he got involved.

"Did you check his private life? Maybe he had a girlfriend?"

Peter did not wait long for an answer.

"Bingo! When he was in jail in Russia, he had a prison pen pal. An American girl named Ashley Snell. She was 22 at the time, which could match Neal's drawing."

"Could match?"

"There are no pictures in the file, and the letters she sent Keller were never scanned. They are in the file in Lyon. I'm going to need some time to get them."

"Good job, Diana. I'll check with Jones and see if the FBI has anything on Ashley Snell."

WC*WC*WC

Peter chose to send an email to Jones because of the jet lag. In a couple of sentences, he explained the situation, avoiding any mention of Mozzie's name. He knew that the new boss of the New York White collar division could read between the lines. Even if it was very late on the other side of the ocean, the answer was fast. As soon as he opened the picture Jones sent, Peter knew that they were on the right track. Neal's drawing was true to the image. He called his friend who joined him in the living room.

"Ashley Snell, born on August 14th 1992. She started writing to Keller in 2012, when he was in a Russian cell. Apparently, she heard about his past exploits and was very impressed. When he made a deal with Interpol to help catch the Pink Panthers, Keller asked her to come and meet him in New York. He kept seeing her behind everyone's back until the end of the operation."

"And you know all that how?"

"The FBI did not link them at the time. Jones searched the database using the name Diana found. He found out that this young woman arrived in New York pretty much at the same time as Keller. And her parents reported her missing a couple of days after his death. They knew she was in New York. They started worrying when she stopped calling. They never heard from her again. Jones kept looking. A woman who matches her description was recorded on CCTV on a couple of thefts all over the East coast, but she was never caught."

"It proves that she has the abilities to commit the thefts we're investigating, not that she took part in them." Neal thought out loud. "That does not tell us why she would want to pin those crimes on me, or how she could possibly know that I'm alive."

"There are still a lot of open questions, you're right. The only way to find answers…"

"…is to catch her red-handed." Neal finished the sentence.

Both men shared a silent look. They knew they had to share their discovery with the French police, and to find a way to bust the young woman.

WC*WC*WC

Captain Lescaut's office was filled with intent cops. They religiously listened to Neal's explanations. Peter, who had a hard time following the conversation in French, stayed back, letting his partner to present the situation. The con man's demonstration was complete. He just left out a couple of details, like Mozzie's existence or the fact that the heists were their own idea in the first place. Julie was the one to break the silence.

"_Do you have any proof that the young woman was part of the thefts, other than her presence at the Louvre the other day?_"

Neal was about to give a negative answer when someone knocked, making everyone turn to face the door. Diana entered the room and replied.

"_I do. The Lyon office faxed me Ashley's letters to Keller. They are coded, but quite easy to understand for anyone who decoded the ones you sent Kate._"

The cops all looked at Neal, who shrugged.

"_It's a long story._" He said. "_So what?_"

"_Ashley does not mention the thefts we are investigating. It looks like Keller had not thought about it yet._"

"Or rather, I had not given him the plan yet." Neal thought to himself.

"_Anyway. The letters clearly mention their intention to commit heists together once he'd get out of jail._" Diana kept on. "_We can reasonably believe that the young woman decided to go on without him. Especially since the FBI told us that she already committed crimes on American soil, even if she was never arrested._"

"_She had a good teacher._" Neal observed. "_It's not surprising that no one ever got hold on her._"

"_And how do you plan on remedying this, Mister Caffrey?_" The Captain asked.

A smile played on the thief's lips. He had an idea on that question, but he was not sure the French police would be thrilled.

"_We can wait for her to strike at the Louvre._" He finally said. "_Or, we can make her come to me instead._"

The policemen shared a very puzzled look.


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"You want to do WHAT?"

If the French police did not know about Neal's scheme yet, Peter was far from thrilled, and that was an understatement.

"Do you realize that this is utter madness? That there are at least a thousand ways that your plan could go south?"

"Peter…"

"And that if… No, not if, WHEN, your plan goes south, you'll end up in jail?"

"That's exactly why we have to share it with the French police." Neal tried to justify.

Peter rolled his eyes. They were alone in Julie's office. The Captain gathered her men to get the job organized until Sunday, the first free admittance day at the Louvre for six months, and likely the moment their thief would strike. Neal took that time to explain his idea to his partner. Without much success so far.

"Think about it. That girl wants me to go down for those thefts. She did her best to link me to them. She knows I faked my own death. She must believe that I don't have any support from the authorities. If I steal that piece before she does, she'll want to get it back."

It sounded logical, but Peter was not ready to take so many risks.

"You would have to steal it without warning the Louvre security. The guards have guns, Neal. What if you're not fast enough? What if one of them chooses to shoot you to protect a piece of art?"

"It won't happen. I'm the best, remember!"

"You were the best. Before I caught you. Twice. Three times if we count Cape Verde. And you haven't stolen anything in months. You're rusty."

It was Neal's turn to roll his eyes. He knew he was still talented enough for the job. And deep inside, he really wanted to do it. To prove to that kid that he was better than her, and better than Keller. It was certainly childish, but after two years living an orderly life, he needed the action. He made his last argument.

"What if she does not strike? Not Sunday and not any other day? The French police would not chase a ghost when it has the perfect culprit right under its nose. If I don't do this, and that girl does not fall in my trap, I'm going back to jail. It is as simple as that."

The plea left Peter speechless. He was certain that his friend was innocent, because in the course of years, he had learned to see past appearances when it came to Neal. He did not realize the cops that he was working with in Paris might not see things as he did. They saw a felon who fled his past, not a man who tried to protect his friends.

"We just have to convince our new friends to help you steal a painting in the Louvre without anyone being the wiser."

Given the agent's reaction, it would not be that easy.

WC*WC*WC

When Captain Lescaut came back in her office, she found the two Americans waiting patiently for her. She sat down behind her desk and watched them closely for a while.

"_The Louvre will stay under protection until Sunday_." She said. "_We will try and spot the suspect. If she shows up, of course._"

Neal took that sentence for an opening. He glanced at his partner and spoke.

"_We have a way to make sure that she will strike on Sunday, but it might be risky_."

Julie looked suspicious. She could feel that the FBI agent was tensed and not entirely convinced by his friend's plan, even if he did not express his doubt, maybe for linguistic reasons.

"_I'm all ears._" She simply said.

"_We have reasons to believe that Miss Snell tries to pin her crimes on me. She certainly seems to want to catch my attention. She's been very careful so far and we don't think she'll ever make mistakes, unless we force her to._"

"_And how do you intend to do that? You want to get ahead of her, maybe?_"

Julie made that statement as a jest, but the man in front of her just shrugged and smiled. She was dumbstruck.

"_You want me to let you burgle the Louvre and not do anything about it? That is your plan? You're insane._"

"My point, exactly." Peter grumbled.

Neal glared at him. When he spoke again, it was slowly and with carefully chosen words.

"_That woman stole art for millions of Euros. She wanted the police to investigate me and she succeeded. I'm afraid that she might disappear into thin air before striking the Louvre if we don't give her a good reason to steal that one piece_."

"_We don't even know for sure whether that woman exists or not." Julie retorted. "She could very well be an invention of yours to fool us._"

"_Exactly. That is why I want to act. The only way that I have to prove my innocence is to bring you the real thief._"

The Captain pondered. The argument made sense, but one thing was still unclear.

"_Why not just pretend to steal a piece? We could work together with the museum staff and leak to the press that a painting was stolen._"

"_A lot of people would have to know what we are up to."_ Neal explained. "_For a con to work, the lie must be known only by a very few people. As Benjamin Franklin said_ Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead."

"_So, you want to pretend that this painting was truly stolen._"

"_Not exactly. I want to steal it. It is the only way to make sure that the museum statement will sound real and that the police reaction will look credible. Credible enough for our thief to come after me instead of the Louvre._"

"_And you plan on striking on Sunday?"_

"_Nope, but for the plan to work, I can't tell you anything more._"

Julie scanned the young man's face for a long time. If he decided to run with the painting, and if anyone heard that she knew about his scheme, her career would be over. She might very well end up in jail with the criminals she'd sent there over the course of years.

"_OK, I'm in._" She heard herself saying. "_But no one from my team will know about it. If it goes south, I'll be the only one in trouble._"


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Neal spent the next couple of days locked in his art studio. He suggested that Peter should take his wife and son on a tour to visit Paris. The agent was not easily convinced. He wanted to help achieve the plan, but he could not make the con man change his mind.

"You can't be part of this." Neal told him for the thousandth time on Thursday night. "You said it yourself, if it goes wrong, I might end up in jail. There is no need to put you in danger. Elisabeth and your son need you."

"Neal, you can go through with your plan alone, it wouldn't work."

"I never asserted I would do it on my own." Neal smiled. "And you don't even know what I'm about to do. Take care of your family and let me plan the theft of the Century."

Peter sighed. He knew he was wasting his time arguing, but he was worried for his friend's safety. He was afraid to lose him again. Someone rang the bell. Neal opened the door and let Diana and her son Theo in. She came to babysit little Neal so that his parents and godfather could go out to a nice restaurant. She could tell from the moment she came through the door that the discussion had been heated.

"Everything's all right?" She asked.

"Everything's fine, except for the fact that Peter is still totally unable to trust me. It won't prevent us from spending a lovely evening."

The evening was lovely indeed. The three friends spoke about the good old days while sharing a delicious dinner. They could leave behind all their worries about the immediate future for the night.

Friday promised to be a beautiful day. Neal came to the breakfast table with an envelope he gave Elisabeth. She opened it with a side glance to her husband. It contained a reservation for the next three nights of the Sleeping Beauty Suite at the hotel within Eurodisney.

"I have two years' worth of gifts to catch up." Neal explained. "I decided to spoil you three a little."

"It rather looks like you're trying to get rid of us." Peter replied.

"Of course not. You'll be back on Sunday night, right on time for some action."

The con man smile looked sincere, but Peter did not believe a word he said. Elisabeth chose to take matters into her own hands.

"Honey, Neal is going to love Eurodisney. He is Donald's greatest fan. And we won't be very far anyway. You can be back here in no time if you need to. It's not as if Neal sent us on the other side of the earth."

The agent looked at his wife. He could feel she wanted for the three of them to be safe, even if it meant leaving his partner alone. He then turned his gaze to Neal, who gently nodded.

"Please, Peter."

"Fine, but you'd better not do anything stupid while I'm gone."

"Never, you know me."

The Burkes just walked out the front door when Mozzie came in thought the one in the back.

"Everything's ready on your end?" He asked.

"If you're referring to the copy, yes, it's ready. How about your end?"

"I found a way to connect to the security system at the Louvre. I will be able to control the cameras and the motion sensors, but not for very long. The codes are renewed after very short periods of time. You'll have to be very fast."

Neal ignored his friend warning.

"Tonight is the night."

WC*WC*WC

On Fridays, the Louvre stays open later. Visitors can roam around until 9:45 pm. Fifteen minutes before the doors close, they are asked to walk towards the exit. At 10 pm sharp, the museum closes its doors, and security turns to night mode, with cameras and motion sensors.

Neal did not enter the museum all day. He did not want to appear on the CCTV. He hid on the roof, as close as possible from his target to buy some time. Wearing black from head to foot, nothing except his feline gait could give his identity away. He carried a narrow tube on his back. Just when he checked his watch, he heard Mozzie's voice in his earbud.

"Showtime! The cameras in the Sully wing are disabled, and the motion sensors would not feel an elephant walking in."

Neal did not reply. He set off, moving fast towards his target, as focused as possible. He could not afford to linger. Every second counted. In less than two minutes, he was in front of Corot's painting. He took a moment to admire the master's work, before taking the tube off his back. It only took him an instant to swap the original with the copy he completed the previous day. He was putting the frame back on the wall when Mozzie spoke again.

"The cameras are back online. I still control the motion sensors, but it won't last."

Neal did not need being said twice. He fled using the same way he came in earlier and was soon back on the roof. He just hid when the alarm went off.

"Mission accomplished." He hissed.

"It was close." The little man replied. "We meet at your place."

WC*WC*WC

The news did not make it to the front page the next day, but it was still quite visible in the French newspapers. An alarm went off at the Louvre. The police intervened with full force, but did not find anything. In fact, it looked like a false alarm. The new system was triggered by an animal, the museum chief of security explained to the press. The masterpieces were safe.

Neal had a satisfied smile. The whole world thought that nothing happened at the Louvre the previous night, but the thief would know someone tried to double cross her, and that is what he was counting on. Mozzie put even more pressure by launching a 5 million Euro bid on the piece. A price much higher than the market. They just had to wait and see.

On Sunday morning, Neal was clean shaved and fully dressed when the museum opened its doors at 9 am. He wanted to be ready even if his opponent chose to strike when the first visitors entered the Louvre. The day was warm for the season. He took his Italian coffee maker and made a great dose of espresso. He needed to be patient.

The French police was keyed up. A lot of cops mingled with the crowd. They did not actually try to prevent the thief from taking action. They had to catch her red-handed, or they could only arrest her for attempted theft, which was not enough to please Captain Lescaut. Julie was very clear on the subject.

It was nearly 2 pm when a guard sounded the alarm. A piece just disappeared on the second floor of the Sully wing. The museum doors closed at once. About ten thousand visitors were locked inside. The cops were certain to find the culprit among them. They were wrong. The methodical search did not lead anywhere. Julie was in shock. The painting was gone. It meant that either Neal's plan did not work, or the con man used her to achieve his goal. She called her team to brief them.

"We have to go to Caffrey's place. He owes me an explanation." She said.

WC*WC*WC

Diana did not wait for the visitors to be searched. The painting's disappearance, and Neal's attitude over the last couple of days started her thinking. As soon as the theft was uncovered, she jumped in her car and drove to the con man's mansion. She also took care to call Peter, even so he was enjoying Eurodisney with his wife and kid. The agent promised to be there as soon as possible.

Diana did not wait for long. A half-hour after her arrival, a young lady came to Neal's place. She shot suspicious glances all around before entering the house, a tube in her hand.

"Neal, what did you do?" Diana breathed. She waited for a couple of minutes before exiting her car and moving closer to the house. She looked through the window and what she saw made her blood run cold. The young woman held Neal at gunpoint. With no second thoughts, the agent rushed inside.

WC*WC*WC

"Where is the original, Caffrey?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Miss…?"

"Don't treat me like an idiot. It was not a false alarm. You stole the painting on Friday and replaced it with a fake. Where is the original?"

The young woman coked her gun just when Diana entered the living room. Neal did not even look at her, his eyes were fixed on the weapon pointed at him. A weapon that moved from Neal to Diana and back.

"Don't come any closer or I'll shoot. I repeat my question, where is the painting?"

Diana knew that any sudden movement could cause a slaughter. She took a step back and put her gun on the floor.

"Miss Snell, we should talk calmly."

The woman gave the newcomer a surprised glance.

"How do you know my name? Who are you?"

"My name's Diana, I am a friend of Neal's."

"A friend? How can someone befriend a killer? He killed the man I loved."

Neal could not keep from responding.

"I've done a lot of things that I regret, but I never killed anyone."

"You lie! You used Matthew in order to disappear, and you killed him. You'll pay for that." She yelled and sobbed at the same time. "We were about to start a new life, but you ruined everything."

That was the moment Peter chose to come in.

"Ashley, listen to me"

"Peter, you shouldn't be here."

The agent ignored his friend.

"Neal told you the truth, he did not kill Keller. I'm the one who pulled the trigger."

Ashley directed her gun towards Peter. He knew that his only chance not to get shot was to keep talking. He'd been through enough similar situations to handle this one.

"Matthew took a hostage. A lady as young and beautiful as you. He threatened her with his weapon. He would probably have killed her if I had done nothing."

"You lie. Matthew was not a murderer. A thief, but not a killer. I can prove it. The heists I performed, they were his ideas. Plans that allowed to steal multiple million dollar pieces of art with no one getting hurt."

"Those were not his plans, but mine."

"I know you worked on this together, he told me so. But he did not want to work with you anymore. He said we'd do it together, that he would teach me. But you killed him."

Ashley was now bawling her eye out. She seemed on the verge of shooting. The sound of police sirens filled the house.

"Ashley, Keller was a murderer, a very dangerous man. He would have ended up hurting you, like he did to anyone close to him." Peter reasoned.

Julie's team invaded the ground floor, guns drawn. The FBI agent kept talking.

"You're not a killer. You can stop that before it's too late."

Ashley looked at the guns pointed at her with the eyes of a doe caught in the headlights of a fast running car. Neal knew that look. He'd been there.

"Ashley, you should lower your weapon." He said softly. "No one will hurt you and we will be able to talk quietly. OK?"

The con man moved slowly towards her. When he was only inches away, he put out his hand and took the gun from the young woman. He then gave it to Peter. The French cops apprehended the thief and took her to the precinct.


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Ashley Snell sat in the interrogation room. Diana and Captain Lescaut had been asking her questions for a couple of hours. Peter and Neal were on the other side of the two-way mirror. The young woman confessed easily to the thefts. She explained that her late boyfriend Matthew Keller planned these before he died in New York two years earlier, at the same time as Neal Caffrey supposedly perished.

Ashley was inconsolable for months. She used what her lover taught her to survive, and when the grief was too much to bear, she flew to Europe. Visiting Paris, she saw the work of an unknown painter that she really enjoyed. Mostly views of New York. She was shocked when she discovered the artist was Neal Caffrey. The former accomplice of the man she loved was alive. That's when she decided to seek revenge.

"How did you plan on avenging yourself?" Diana asked.

"I knew that Matthew planned those heists with Caffrey. I made sure that he would show up in every city I was about to strike. I also ensured that his journeys there would not go unnoticed, that it would raise the police's suspicions. I wanted him to suffer, to lose the life he stole from Matthew. That he stole from us. Ending up in jail for crimes he dreamed of but did not commit, I found that nearly poetic. I would have the money, and he'd have a cell."

"There is one thing I don't understand." Julie said. "You succeeded in stealing the last piece on your list and in getting away. Your plan was about to work. Why did you attack Caffrey at his place?"

The young woman looked up at the Captain.

"Because he spoiled me once more. He stole Corbot's piece before I did. I had to pull off all those heists, as a tribute to Matthew."

Julie was lost.

"But, we found the painting when we arrested you?"

"It's a fake, just a copy."

Behind the two-way mirror, Peter turned towards his partner.

"You did not?"

"Relax, Peter. The painting is safe. I never thought about keeping it." Neal smiled.

The Captain entered the room at that exact moment.

"Where is the piece?"

"Neatly laid on your desk." The thief replied with his most charming smile.

"My office is always locked!"

"Don't worry, I made sure it was locked when I left, I swear."

Julie sighed and left, closing the door behind her.

"All's well that ends well." Peter said.

The silence that followed his statement surprised him. Neal looked deeply worried.

"Neal? What's wrong?"

"When we were still in the living room, Ashley accused you of killing Keller to avenge my death. Is there… Is there some kind of truth in what she said?"

"You think that your decision to disappear turned me into a murderer? Of course not, Neal. I shot because the hostage's life was in danger, and because he would have killed me if I hadn't been faster. At that time, I did know what I was about to find. I thought he was bluffing to buy some time. I was certain you had nine lives, like cats."

He paused for a second.

"I was not totally wrong, for that matter." He finished.

Relief showed on Neal's face.

"We should head home to celebrate. Elisabeth and Neal should be back by now, and I'm sure Diana would not say no to a drink."

WC*WC*WC

Neal uncorked a Champagne bottle minutes after they walked through the door. A well-deserved reward after all those emotions. He was about to toast when someone cleared his throat.

"Partying without me?"

Diana and Elisabeth replied in unison. "Mozzie?!"

Elisabeth was the only one to keep talking.

"I should have known. Neal could not steal anything from the Louvre on his own. He needed his guardian angel since Peter was with me."

Neal frowned.

"I could do it on my own, but it feels good to work as a team."

"I'll raise my glass to team work." Peter said.

"To team work." They all repeated.

The mansion was totally silent for a little while. Elisabeth was the first to ask the question they all had in mind.

"And now? You plan to stay in Paris?"

"I can't come home. Especially now that the Pink Panthers know that I'm alive. And you're all in danger."

"Not exactly. In fact, I think you're all safe."

Everyone turned to look at Mozzie.

"I did not stay inactive since the Suit let slip without knowing it that you might be alive. I respected your choice to stay away and alone, but I made sure you could change your mind and come back."

"How?"

"Well, I knew that the Panthers usually threaten the people closer to their enemies. I simply decided to play their own game."

"What did you do?" Neal was worried.

"Nothing more than to find their relatives and to take some pictures. Pictures that were mailed to different prisons around the US."

"Mutual assured destruction, the basic principle of the Cold War. As long as they'll think we can hurt the people they care about, they'll leave you be. Smart move, Moz."

"But, you're non-violent, they probably know that." Elisabeth exclaimed.

"They know that." Peter replied. "But they also know that Neal went as far as giving up his life for our safety. They won't risk it."

"So, you're coming home with us?" Elisabeth asked.

Neal smiled to his friends.

"I haven't decided yet, but I think that I need to make a detour to London first anyway."

**THE END**

**Author's note:**

I wanted to update yesterday, but FF wouldn't let me. Sorry for the delay.

Thank you for staying with me until the end, I hope you liked it. Don't hesitate to review and tell me what you thought, especially if you'd like to have a sequel some day.

I have a little preserie Oneshot in French. Let me know if you think it's worth translating ;)

Again, a huge thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited or followed the story.


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